“Don’t worry.” Lena put her hand on my arm. “Brady’s on top of all this electronic stuff. Like he said, the batteries are probably dead anyway. Seriously, that old guy was a psycho. I bet he was doing something perverted, but it’s all okay now. Fucker’s totally dead.”

In a kitchen drawer, I found the warranty information for our air conditioner and furnace, the instructions for our stove, and the HOA agreement. There was a company listed on the alarm, the same company we’d called to set up monitoring when we first moved in.

Lena opened the panel of our alarm system. “Everything here looks normal.”

“What about that red light?” I pointed to the little box in the upper corner of our back wall. “There’s another in the master bedroom. Let’s rip those down.”

“Hold up.” She grabbed my arm as I started to drag a chair over. “That’s part of your alarm system. Should just be a motion sensor, a laser across your back wall. A good idea when you’ve got these high privacy fences like we do. You can call the company, but if you rip ’em off, you’ll have the police here double time. Let Brady take a look.”

The feeling of being watched—no, scrutinized—struck me again, and I felt a wave of dizziness just as Michael came out of the back room.

“You look pale. When did you last eat?”

“I had lunch …” I hadn’t told him about getting sick. “I threw up earlier. Too many fumes from the wallpaper stuff.”

“You need to keep the fan on, and maybe open the door to the garage to suck some of it out.” He ran a hand over my forehead, and I leaned into the comforting warmth of his fingers.

“Is there any way to tell where it was transmitting?” If these cameras were live, if they still worked, Michael would have called the police. He was calm, and I could be, I had to be, too.

“I don’t know. We’ll keep looking tonight, and then I’ll do some research.”

Brady shouted something from farther down the little hallway, and Michael ran to join him. They’d found another.

This wasn’t one anomaly; it was a major issue with our house.

When I looked at Lena, she was watching me with a steady gaze. “You were sick earlier?”

“A couple hours ago. I’m sorry, I should have said. I don’t think I’m ill. Just fumes.”

She didn’t smile or look away as she considered me. Then she seemed to snap out of it. “You probably need to eat something. I’ve got soup at home, or we can order pizza if you think you can keep it down.” And I could feel the warmth of her concern again.